Remnants

by Carolyn Arnold

  “I’m pretty certain he’s not burying bodies there,” I said. “Darla would know it and have no problem turning him in.” An image of her strangling Stanley flashed in my mind.

  Jack’s phone rang, and he answered on speaker. “Go ahead, Nadia.”

  “I dug further into Missing Persons looking for twentysomething men reported missing on Fridays within a four-hour drive of Savannah. The search results came back with eighteen, in addition to Eric Morgan.”

  Holy crap!

  Nadia continued. “Unlike Mr. Morgan, though, not all of them were married with families, but they were all in good physical shape.”

  “Worthwhile adversaries,” Zach chimed in.

  “If that’s the case, Colin West likely didn’t fall prey to our unsub. He was overweight. We might never know what happened to him,” Paige added sorrowfully.

  “Uh, guys,” Nadia weaseled back in, claiming the lead in the conversation. “Eleven of the men went missing from malls in South Carolina.”

  Some areas of South Carolina were close enough to be a day trip from Savannah.

  “Send everything on this to all of us, Nadia,” Jack directed.

  “Will do.” All our phones chimed with notifications of new messages.

  “So what triggered Stanley four years ago to start doing this?” Paige asked.

  “He and Darla moved to Savannah five years ago,” I was quick to say, not yet sure how it factored in to figuring out Stanley’s motive.

  “There’s got to be more to it than a move. Something happened four years ago that had a huge impact on his life,” she retorted.

  “Unless he had abducted and killed prior to then and we just haven’t tracked down the missing person,” I said, hating that without more our hands were tied in this regard.

  Jack stopped pacing. “We just have that cold case from Lansing, and we know Stanley was living there at the time.”

  “If that was Stanley, though, his victim criteria has changed drastically. Why go from killing people who live a high-risk lifestyle to family men and those who would be reported missing?” Paige asked.

  “More questions…” Jack grumbled. He pulled out a cigarette and perched it between his lips. “Any update on the video from the mall, Nadia?”

  “I don’t have it yet, but I followed up. It should be here this afternoon.”

  “It is afternoon. Press them to send it right now,” Jack bit out.

  “I’ll call them again.” Nadia hung up, leaving the three of us staring at one another.

  Jack was on the warpath, and I couldn’t blame him. Eric Morgan may have been taken by our unsub a week ago today, but if his body was found while we were in Savannah that would eat away at Jack as if he—we—should have been able to save him.

  “Let’s start looking at what we do know,” I said, my mind going back to the roadside crime scene and the way the body was left for us to find. “At the most recent crime scene, the body and skin were placed on clear plastic.” I held up my hand to Zach, who looked like he was going to interject. “I’m sure he could have picked it up anywhere, if that’s what you were going to say.”

  “Yep,” Zach conceded.

  “That’s not why I brought it up, though. I was thinking about how the body was disposed of. It shows our unsub took care with it. He could have just dumped the remains haphazardly, but it was placed there, presented to us.” I stamped out that last part, and chills ran through me.

  “That would also mean he took time at the dump site. He wasn’t afraid of being caught. He took a risk,” Paige offered.

  “He’s escalated,” Jack said. “He’s gone from burying his victims to displaying them on the side of the road.” He took a few steps. “He’s not afraid anymore.”

  “He wants to be stopped, then?” I asked.

  “Not necessarily.” Jack aligned his gaze with mine. “But if that’s the case, he might be hoping for suicide by cop.”

  Jack’s statement fell heavy over the room. There was no way any of us wanted to assume that responsibility. No matter the evil we witnessed, when we faced the unsub, the last thing we wanted was to decide if he lived or died. Still, there were times we were forced into that position.

  The silence stretched on for a bit, and then I picked up on my earlier train of thought. “Going back to laying the victim out with care… I’d almost say whoever dumped the body did so lovingly, with respect for the deceased.”

  Zach nodded. “In Mayan culture, being a willing sacrifice was considered an honor and those who offered themselves were respected.”

  “I doubt he was willing,” I shot back.

  Zach rolled his eyes. “Even conquered warriors who didn’t hold their beliefs or values garnered a level of respect from the Mayans.”

  “And that was demonstrated by throwing their bodies down the temple stairs and skinning them?” I asked.

  God, how do I ever sleep at night?

  Jack pulled the unlit cigarette from his mouth. “Our unsub’s revealed a lot of himself to us this time. Why? Is it because he wants to get caught? Killed by us? Or is there something larger going on here?”

  Jack had us going quiet again.

  “We brought up the possibility of there being more than one unsub,” I said. “And we’ve never been able to determine where Stanley carries out the ritual or buries the victims, so what if it’s occurring on Stanley’s partner’s property? We did speak to two of his friends, but we haven’t really dug into them beyond simple background checks and vehicle registrations.”

  “But we do know that neither of them live next to the river or own additional properties,” Zach said.

  “Hmm.”

  We all turned to Jack.

  “Maybe we’re not as dry for leads as we thought.” He made eye contact with me briefly. “When Brandon and I spoke with Duane Oakley, he mentioned he’d sometimes meet up with Stanley at a place in town called Patty’s Pub.”

  With all the twists in the case—and the new victim—I’d somehow shoved my curiosity on that matter aside. “What made him take the risk of going out in public and getting caught by Darla?”

  “Let’s go find out. And while we’re doing that, I want you two—” Jack eyed Paige and Zach “—to see about the man who was reported missing before Eric Morgan.”

  Zach consulted his phone. “His name was Elijah Lewis, reported by his wife, Tanya, three months ago. She’s in Hampton, South Carolina.”

  Jack snapped his fingers. “Let’s get moving.”

  -

  Chapter 32

  PATTY’S PUB WAS LOCATED IN the Historic District and had the feel of a classy establishment from the sidewalk. The building was pale redbrick, but the face of the pub was hunter green with gold accents. It was two in the afternoon, and some patrons were seated outside on the patio.

  “For two?” A brunette stood behind the hostess stand and reached for a couple of menus.

  My stomach growled, and I was hoping that Jack would let us mix business with nutrition.

  Jack glanced at me. “Sure.”

  The hostess smiled, and so did I. “Follow me.” She led us through the space to a table for two tucked away in a corner. “Your waitress will be over soon.”

  We both sat down, and she handed out the menus. I opened mine right away as Jack watched me intently.

  “Thanks, Jack. I am starving.”

  “So I heard.” His eyes lowered as if to indicate my stomach. Had the growling been that loud?

  “I just know we’re on a case and—”

  “We’ll always have work to do, but if we don’t eat, we’re going to run out of energy. And I need us to have energy right now.”

  I nodded, feeling for Paige and Zach who would be on their way to speak with Tanya Lewis in South Carolina while Jack and I would be stuffing our faces. Or at least I
would be. Real meals were hard to come by when working a case, and I was going to take advantage of this.

  “Just order something quick, though,” Jack said.

  Did he know me? That’s how I preferred to dine on any given day. Going out for a long, drawn-out meal was never my idea of a fun time. Another advantage of being single again.

  Ironically, a pang of sadness hit me as the thought sank into my gut. I was single…again. I wondered how Becky was doing. She never called after Valentine’s Day, not that I’d expected her to. If anything, it was probably in my hands to mend the relationship, but why should I change who I was for anyone? I’d lost my wife because I chose my happiness. Maybe it wasn’t so much the job that resulted in my becoming a bachelor. Maybe it was an inadvertent choice that I had made. I wasn’t sure if that made me feel better or worse, though. And what exactly had I chosen?

  Jack set his menu down, ready to order, and he flagged down a nearby waitress. Who knew if she was ours—we hadn’t seen one yet.

  This one came to the edge of the table and was grinning.

  “We’d like to order.” He looked at me. “You ready?”

  I wasn’t really. It was a matter of being too hungry to decide. But if I had to choose… “I’ll have the open-faced roast beef sandwich.” What was I thinking—carbs and gravy? I must be stress eating. I handed her the menu.

  “Good choice.” She turned to Jack. “You?”

  “I’ll have the same.” She took Jack’s menu from the table and left.

  I was surprised Jack didn’t give her a spiel about the hurry we were in, but maybe he had an ulterior motive. And really, if we were extra nice to her, she might have something to share with us about Stanley Gilbert. We’d love to know how often he came here and with whom. Was it only with Duane Oakley or other people, too?

  Jack and I met eyes, and I drummed my fingers on the table.

  He looked down at my hand. “Something wrong, Kid?”

  I stopped thrumming.

  “No. I thought we had this conversation.”

  “Hmm.”

  “What is it, Jack?” My voice rose without intending for it to do so.

  “It just seems that something is preoccupying you.”

  “I assure you, I’m not preoccupied.” He didn’t need to know about the thoughts that creeped in about Becky, how I was always alone, and how the feeling that I was doomed to spend my life solo went back to childhood when my mother couldn’t have any other kids after me. Sure, I grew up spoiled and the center of attention—both aspects that I enjoyed—but sometimes there was nothing I wouldn’t have given for a sibling to argue with, to compete with, to protect.

  To protect…

  Was that the issue here? Was I single because I smothered those around me? No, that was ridiculous. If anything, my actions would lean more toward aloofness. But what if all that was to protect me? The need to protect would account for my career choice to serve, if nothing else.

  “You seem pretty deep in thought for it to be ‘nothing.’” Jack was looking me in the eye, and there was no hiding it.

  “You’ve told me many times that our relationship is a professional one, Jack.” I don’t know why I kept saying his name. Maybe to tone down the message, insert more respect. But really, we weren’t that different from each other. “Well, I have a hard time with that sometimes. We’re screwed up, the both of us. But it is what it is.”

  He smirked. “I think everyone’s screwed up just a little.”

  “Suppose so.”

  As I looked at him, the realization that he was a single man, too, drilled into me. His story, from what I knew of it, painted him as a military hero who was too busy serving his country to commit to anyone. He’d even missed out on his son’s childhood. So the question was, what was Jack protecting himself from? Or was it a different issue for him?

  “You know I’m single again, and I know I told you I was fine with it, but I’m not sure I am.” Man, the feelings were just pouring out of me. “But I can assure you that it will have no effect on how I do my job.”

  “Oh, it will,” he said. Not a judgment, just matter-of-fact.

  I tilted my head. “How’s that?”

  The waitress returned then to fill up our water glasses, and I couldn’t wait for her to leave again. I didn’t need Jack backing out of this conversation.

  As soon as she had left, he said, “Everything we go through in life changes us, makes us who we are.”

  Was I really having this deep of a conversation with Jack of all people? A man who preferred emotions didn’t exist?

  “I have my own demons,” Jack continued, nodding. “Yes, yes, I admit it. But I wouldn’t be the person I am without them.”

  “You almost died just six months ago.” I took a deep breath, realizing again just how fond I was of Jack.

  He shrugged. “I didn’t, though.”

  “You’re telling me you don’t think about it? That it doesn’t affect you daily?”

  He met my eyes when he said, “It does. But it’s how I choose to handle it that matters, and I’m certainly not going to let it define me.”

  I didn’t know what to say in response as I was too busy trying to figure out how his point applied to me. I had chosen to be single to protect myself from getting hurt and had gone so far as to bury myself in my career. These things were defining me… I had a career, I was an only child, I was divorced. Was this what I wanted to be remembered for?

  I cleared my throat.

  “Here you go.” The waitress set our orders in front of us, and I had never been happier to see carbs and gravy.

  Jack and I ate quickly without any more conversation, and if it wasn’t for the fact that I felt more comfortable with the man than ever, I wouldn’t have believed it had happened.

  The waitress slipped a billfold onto the table. “Whenever you’re ready.”

  “Ready now.” Jack pulled out a credit card.

  “I’ll be right back.” The waitress returned a bit later, a smile on her face. “So are you visitin’ from outta town?”

  Jack opened the billfold and signed his receipt. “You could say that. We’re with the FBI.”

  “Oh,” she said as he handed it back to her. “You here about the bodies that were found? Heard there was another one this morning… You working that case?” With each question, her voice got louder.

  Jack just had to look at her in his certain way, the one that exuded authority, and she put a hand over her mouth for a moment. “Sorry. I’ll keep it down.”

  I pulled out my phone.

  “We have some questions for you,” Jack said.

  “Uh, sure.” She glanced over her shoulder. She was probably concerned because she had other customers in her section.

  I smiled at her. “It won’t take long.”

  “All right. What can I help you with?” She shifted her weight to her right.

  “Do you know this man?” I showed her a picture of Stanley on my phone.

  “Stanley? Sure. But I don’t know where he is.”

  Jack’s eye twitched. “Why would you say that? You normally would?”

  Her face paled. “No, not that. I just know that you’re looking for him. I saw it on the news.”

  “You know him well enough to be on a first-name basis,” I began, her attention turning from Jack to me.

  “Means nothing,” she said. “He comes in most Friday afternoons.”

  “Most?” I asked.

  “I’d say so.”

  “And does he come with anyone?”

  “Uh-huh. A couple different friends, but he never brings them together.”

  I fished through my phone for a photo of Duane Oakley. “He one of them?”

  She glanced at the picture. “Yeah.”

  “What does the other man look like?”
The hair on the back of my neck was already standing up. We came in hoping for a lead, and we were getting exactly that.

  “He’s got dark hair. Don’t think he’s quite six foot. And he’s got very pale skin. He’s quite a bit younger than Stanley, probably in his twenties?” The waitress looked to the corner of the room, and I followed her gaze to a woman who was watching her. I’d guess it was her manager. I held up my badge for her, and she slunk into the back.

  I looked back at the waitress. The description she gave us sounded familiar to me. “One more picture.”

  She looked at the photo I brought up of Jesse Holt.

  “Is that him?”

  “No.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “That was fast.”

  “I’m just absolutely certain that’s not him.”

  “A couple more questions,” Jack began. “You said he’d come in on Friday afternoons. About what time?”

  She bit her bottom lip, thinking. “Probably around four or so? He’d have a couple beers and then leave.”

  “Was he here last Friday?” I asked.

  She nodded.

  So he’d abducted Eric Morgan in Atlanta, had driven back to Savannah, had done who knows what with him, and then had gone out for a couple beers?

  I sat up straighter. “How did he seem to you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “His normal self? Stressed out?” I fed her a couple of options.

  “His normal self is stressed out.” She gave a small smile. “He’s wound tight all the time. Especially when he’s with that younger friend of his. Nothing can make him smile when they’re together.”

  Jack pointed to the ceiling. “Do you have surveillance video set up in here?”

  The waitress rubbed a cheek on her shoulder. “Yeah, we do.”

  “We’ll need to see it,” Jack stated.

  “I can’t help you there. You’d have to speak to the owner.”

  “Would you get him for us, please?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “It’s a her, and she’s not in.”

  “We’ll need her number, then.” Jack wasn’t taking no for an answer.

  “One minute,” she said and walked away.